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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24604894">hearts like spun sugar</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee'>fangirl_squee</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Friends at the Table (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, very background fero/samol</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:22:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,766</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24604894</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Samol's birthday is coming up and Samot is determined that he will have the best cake, even if that means seeing his ex-husband for the first time since their divorce.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Samot/Samothes (Friends at the Table)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>hearts like spun sugar</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Samot takes a breath, looking up at the curling script of the sign for Aubade Bakery. What he is about to do will be unpleasant, but it’s for the greater good. He just has to remind himself that. The greater good.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He grits his teeth and pushes open the door, feeling a flare of annoyance at the cheerful chime of a bell. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He looks around for a moment, taking in what will undoubtedly soon be a battleground. Irritatingly, it looks nice, all subtle accents and exposed red brick. He’s sure that under other circumstances he’d find it quite charming. A few women sit close together on one of the couches tucked into the corner of the room, and Samot feels a flicker of guilt that he and Samothes are probably about to ruin what is probably their very pleasant date.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment Samot thinks there’s no one behind the counter, only for a mess of brown hair to pop up suddenly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, hi?” says the man. The tray of purple cupcakes in his hands tilts dangerously to the side for a moment as he straightens..</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samot blinks. He hadn’t expected Samothes to have </span>
  <em>
    <span>staff. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He’d always argued against it, before, not wanting to give up even the slightest bit of control even if it meant that he was never home on time, never there when Samot needed him to be, and even when he was-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The man behind the counter clears his throat.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samot shakes himself. “I was hoping to speak to Samothes.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” says the man slowly, “Is this about an existing order, or…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“A new order,” says Samot. “Listen, is he here or not?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think he’s busy?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t sound sure,” says Samot.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I can take this order,” says a voice from the room behind the counter, “Fero, why don’t you take a break?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought you wanted me to get all these cupcakes out?” says Fero, “You literally </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> said it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>priority</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fero,” says Samothes, amusement curling through his stern tone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Fero waves his hands. “Sure, okay, fine.” He pauses. “I still get my regular break though, right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fero</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine, fine,” says Fero, taking off his apron as he heads through the door to the back room.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a pause before Samothes steps out. Samot’s eyes catch on the little details, unchanged in their time apart; the precise crease where he had rolled up his sleeves, the way his apron covered the v of his open shirt, the streak of flour on his neck, just above his shirt collar. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Samot,” says Samothes after a moment, “What are you doing here?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samot steels himself. “Just because we’re divorced that doesn’t mean I’m going to get our father an inferior cake for his birthday.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samothes pauses, considering him for a moment. “I thought you said I was a mediocre cook at best. In fact I distinctly remember you saying that the reason I could keep the bakery at all was because you had no interest in absorbing a disastrous business venture.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samot’s toes curl in his shoes, but he manages to keep his face impassive. “Would you like me to repeat some of the things that </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> said to </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> during the divorce proceedings?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The corners of Samothes’ mouth turn down a fraction. “No, I- No.” He pauses. “Samot-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t come here about that,” says Samot, “I came to get a cake.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” says Samothes, “A moment.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He steps towards the cash register to pull something out of a drawer beside it, giving Samot a hazy moment to appreciate the pull of Samothes’s shirt over the muscles of his back before he can get a hold of himself. Samothes sets a large ledger between them on the counter, and a familiar irritation floods Samot as he looks down at a distinctly Samothes style of organisation.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I assume you’d like it to be customised?” says Samothes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Only if I can have control of the customisation,” says Samot.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“To a point,” says Samothes, “It has to be able to stand up to gravity, and I would prefer not to make something that looks better than it tastes.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Everybody has different tastes,” says Samot.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” says Samothes, “Which is why we will share control over it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Share-! </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m </span>
  </em>
  <span>paying for it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m giving you a significant discount on it,” says Samothes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t remember agreeing to that.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Samot,” says Samothes, his voice quiet, “It’s for Samol. Of course I- It would be from me too. He would know it was, even if you were the one that gave it to him.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samot bites the inside of his cheek. “Fine. But I want final say.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samothes nods. “I assume that you have something in mind already?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” says Samot, “Now that you mention it-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He reaches into his handbag, pulling out a small sketchpad. Samothes huffs a laugh, and Samot returns his smile. For a moment, the air between them feels easy, as though harsh words had never been spoken.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The bell at the door chimes again, breaking the moment. Samot pulls back - he hadn’t even realised that he’d been leaning towards Samothes. From the expression on Samothes’ face, he hadn’t realised it either, swallowing and looking away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fero,” says Samothes in the direction of the open doorway, “Break’s over.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samot hears a sigh from the back room and Fero emerges, pulling his apron over his head as he steps towards the counter.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I will be discussing a custom order with Samot in the back,” says Samothes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Fero raises his eyebrows. “Right. A custom order.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samot feels his cheeks flush, but Samothes has stepped away before he can find his voice, pulling Samot around the counter with a gesture and leading him through the door to a small office. The back area of the bakery is much more as Samot had expected from a place Samothes made - stainless steel finishings underneath barely-organised chaos. His office is much the same, a slightly neater desk tucked into the corner that Samot would have known on sight was Primo’s, even without the family picture sitting on top of a neat pile of folders.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samothes gestures for Samot to sit down, sitting across the desk from him. Samot takes a moment to look around slowly - he recognises every piece of furniture there, as though Samothes’ office in their apartment had been plucked from the past and tumbled into this small room.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samothes shifts, bringing Samot’s attention back to the present. He runs a nail along the cover of his sketchpad. Now that they’re away from the front counter, the world felt very quiet.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fero seems like an odd choice for you. For staff, I mean,” says Samot.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s not usually staff,” says Samothes, “Emmanuel’s on his honeymoon, and Samol suggested him.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samot makes a face and Samothes laughs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, that’s what I thought too. Apparently he does some yard work for our father in-between handyman jobs.” Samothes pauses. “He’s… more dependable than I would have expected.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, that’s… good, I suppose,” says Samot, “And, uh. Emmanuel’s on his honeymoon?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” says Samothes, “You would have found it very funny, I think. His boyfriend was in here every day for a month, very nervous, until eventually Emmanuel asked </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samot laughs. Samothes smiles back at him, leaning forward in his chair slightly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I suppose I should- They’re only rough designs,” says Samot, finally opening the sketchpad, “You know I’m not much of an artist-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not true at all,” says Samothes, leaning forward to look over the page. “And these are beautiful, if impossible to produce in reality.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re not </span>
  <em>
    <span>impossible</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” says Samot, “You could do this with spun sugar-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samothes makes a frustrated sound. “You don’t even know how to make that-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s why I’m hiring </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” says Samot, “Unless you think you </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> do it-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samothes huffs a breath, picking up a pencil and going to write on the page. Samot lets out a strangled sound and pulls the sketchpad away. Samothes’ pencil hits the desk, the lead breaking and bouncing off the desk and onto the floor. The both stare at each other for a moment. Samot’s face feels hot, and he can see the matching pink flush along Samothes’ neck.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I just- can I make a </span>
  <em>
    <span>suggestion</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” says Samothes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you do it without scribbling all over my work?” snaps Samot.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samothes lets out a slow breath, rummaging in a desk drawer for a moment before he finds a battered-looking notepad. He sets it down on the desk in front of him. Slowly, Samot slides his sketchpad back onto the table.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Here,” says Samothes, “It can’t be so high if you want it to be cake. It needs the support, especially if you want it to actually taste good and not like cement.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” says Samot, “I suppose I can alter it a little, I just… I really wanted it to look like Samol’s house.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And it will,” says Samothes, “I promise there’s a way to do it, even if the inside has to look a little different from how you expected it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Most things do,” says Samot.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samothes blinks, a smile hovering at the edge of his lips. “Well. Let’s take a look at the rest of your ideas.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samot left the bakery feeling much lighter than he’d entered it, his head so buzzing with ideas that he called Samothes as he walked through the door to his apartment, his fingers working before his mind can catch up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello?” says Samothes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samot blinks. “I- Hi, I know I just saw you but I was thinking-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Aren’t you always,” chuckles Samothes, “What do you want to change now?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Only a few things,” says Samot, grinning to himself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It feels strange to return to the bakery the next day, and the next, or- no. It’s strange in that it doesn’t feel strange at all. It feels easy to walk through to the back office of the bakery and argue with Samothes over whether the leaves on the tiny sugar trees outside of Samol’s cake-house should be spearmint or peppermint, or whether the chocolate door should be tempered or not. It feels easy to look at Samothes’s face each day, and laugh with him over some memory, as though there were not the years apart between them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I admit,” says Samot, “I half-expected that you wouldn’t take this job.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samothes pauses in where he’s manipulating the roof of Samot’s cardboard mockup, trying to shape it into something he has described as “more cake-like”. His gaze shifts to Samot, tilting his head slightly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I believe I remember your line on collaboration for custom items being that you </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>collaborate </span>
  <em>
    <span>at all</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” says Samot.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samothes pauses, his eyes sliding to the cardboard in his hands. “Ah. well. There was… I knew someone, a long time ago, who tried to explain to me the value of it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samot went very still. “And?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t listen to him for a long time,” says Samothes, “but lately I’ve been reminded of the value of it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samot swallows, his throat suddenly tight. “Oh.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The piece of cardboard loosens in Samothes’ hands, and Samot watches his chest rise and fall.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samot wet his lips. “I…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samothes looks up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think it should be more like this,” says Samot, reaching for the cardboard, “Here-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His fingers brush Samothes’ palm as he takes the cardboard from him, the sensation pinging through the nerves of his body. Beside him, Samothes goes very still.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samot swallows. “Like this, see? It can work like this.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samothes lets out a long breath. “Yes, I think you’re right.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Even after Samot left that day, the sensation remained, a phantom feeling against his fingertips, the memory of Samothes’ eyes on his making his toes curl at odd moments through the days that followed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And then, it’s time for Samol’s party.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The cake is a success, of course. Samol beams at him before he turns his smile to Samothes as well.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“As wonderful a work as either of you have ever done, I think,” says Samol, “Make sure you get your pictures quick before people want a piece.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll cut it,” says Samot.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll</span>
  </em>
  <span> cut it,” says Samothes, “I know which are the load-bearing areas.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So do I,” says Samot, following Samothes out to the kitchen.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I- Look-” Samothes cuts himself off swallowing. “Perhaps we could… both…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He shifts his feet, reminding Samot of a thousand small moments where Samothes had almost met him halfway, moments where he’d never quite managed to reach the rest of the way out. The expression on Samothes’ face looks a little like the one he’d worn on their wedding day, as though he was thinking words very hard instead of saying them. Instead of the usual flare of anger, something else burbles in Samot’s chest.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samot laughs. “I believe I’m going to need the full request.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samothes huffs a breath. “We could both cut the cake.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s what I was thinking as well,” says Samot.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They both reached for the knife at the same time, their fingers tangling before their hands still. Samot looks up, meeting Samothes’ eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do… you want to go first?” says Samot, not moving his hand.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not particularly,” says Samothes, “And I… I almost wish you wouldn’t either.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not very practical,” says Samot.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You always make me feel that way,” says Samothes, “You make me want to be completely impractical.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samot’s eyes drop to Samothes’ lips. “I-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh,” says Maelgwyn, from behind them, making them spring apart. “Grandpa wants to know when you’re starting the cake?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samot meets Samothes’ eyes, feeling his face flush. His hands flex at his sides. Samothes clears his throat.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re doing it now,” says Samothes, “Why don’t you tell him we’ll bring it out in a moment?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maelgwyn gives them a look. “Sure.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samot waits until Maelgwyn is out of the room before he lets out a breath.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samothes laughs. “My thoughts exactly.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samot huffs a laugh, running a hand through his hair. “What are we </span>
  <em>
    <span>doing</span>
  </em>
  <span> Samothes?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I was hoping you knew,” says Samothes, “I was following your lead.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samot swats him on the shoulder, and Samothes smiles down at him. His expression fades slowly, brow furrowing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” says Samothes, “I… I was so angry at you, for the longest time, but I never stopped-” He swallows. “I always… There was never anybody else.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“There was the work,” says Samot.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s an old hurt, a deep one. It must show on his face because Samothes’ own expression crumples.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You always meant more to me than the work-” says Samothes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If that were true I wish you had shown that,” says Samot.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Which is why I never took that job,” says Samothes, “And then you threw it back in my face-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What job?” says Samot.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The offer to franchise out the bakery,” says Samothes, “The one I was working on when you-” He breaks off, frowning. “Do you really not remember?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I remember you working a lot,” says Samot, “Too much, on some big thing that never went anywhere- oh. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Samothes, you never told me it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I could have helped you. You could have </span>
  <em>
    <span>said</span>
  </em>
  <span> something, at least.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t want you to know, I wanted it to be this big reveal, but then…” Samothes sighs. “I never would have let you help, then.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And now?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Now, maybe,” says Samothes, “I imagine it would have gone a lot like this.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He gestures to the cake.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“A rousing success?” says Samot.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samothes smiles. “I suppose we’ll never know.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samot presses his lips together. “Maybe, we could, I-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think franchising is still on the table,” says Samothes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But we could be,” says Samot.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samothes raises his eyebrows and Samot feels his cheeks flush.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You know what I meant.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I do,” says Samothes, “I… Samot…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a loud knock at the doorway, making them both jump.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dads</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” says Maelgwyn, “Grandpa says if you don’t do the cake he’s getting Fero to do it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re doing it,” says Samothes, “Leave it to us.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maelgwyn lets out a very teenaged sigh before heading back out into the garden.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samothes and Samot looked at each other for a long moment.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samot swallows. “We should… we should talk. About this.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” says Samothes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Over dinner,” says Samot.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” says Samothes, his voice sounding a little hoarse.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” says Samot, turning back the cake, as businesslike as he could manage. “It’s a date.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Behind him, he hears Samothes let out a shaky breath.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That sounds like a wonderful start,” says Samothes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Samot smiles. “It does, doesn’t it?”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>come say hi: mariusperkins on most places</p></blockquote></div></div>
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